Broken Hallelujah
by Psamathe
Summary: The reality of working at Fenchurch East hits Alex at Christmas time. Gene/Alex. Warning for character death.
1. Chapter 1

"It shouldn't be like this!" Alex wanted to shout but the only sound she seemed capable of was a broken sob. Her hands were cramping with the effort of keeping pressure on the wound. The red liquid, rendered viscous by the intense cold, still seeped through her fingers.

"Stay with me… stay with me…"

Gene sat by the victim's head, cradling the young man in his arms. A stabbing, violent, terrible... A policeman who had been trying to do his job. Alex knew with terrible certainty that this was a bitter taste of what was yet to come.

"Guv?"

"I'm here, son."

"I'm sorry I thought… I thought…"

"You've done us proud… hold on… won't be long now."

Blood frothed at the man's lips. The knife had pierced a lung. Tears ran down Alex's face as, in the corner of her vision, something not quite human stepped closer.

"Don't you dare… don't you bloody dare! Bolly where's that ambulance?"

It was a question she couldn't answer. The call had only gone out minutes ago but this was happening faster than she could have possibly imagined. Alex could hear death rattling in his lungs. Within a few seconds she could no longer feel the movement of his chest under her hands.

She sat back on her heels and looked up at Gene. With infinite care he let the young man's head rest on the pavement and closed his eyes. There was nothing else they could do except wait for the ambulance. In the distance, Alex heard the wail of a siren… too late.

She let Gene deal with the paramedics. Sitting on the wet London street she pulled her white leather jacket closer around her shoulders, trying to protect herself against the bitter wind. It didn't help. The chill seemed to have settled into her bones. Christmas Eve and another good man lay dead on the streets.

"I didn't even know his name," she whispered as Gene helped her up. They walked away in silence.

A thin drizzle fell from the sky. No snow… not in this decade. Alex couldn't remember the last white Christmas. The fairytale didn't seem to happen any more.

"You're cold," Gene said.

Alex shook her head wanting nothing more than to forget the last few hours. Yes, she was cold but more than that… her whole body, her mind was numb. Even when Gene wrapped an arm around her shoulders it made no difference. She stopped walking, turning to him in desperation.

"I am not going to die," she stated. "Promise me, Gene?"

He looked down at her with pity in his eyes.

"I can't die!" she screamed. In the distance she heard a bell toll midnight.

She clutched at him, pulling him closer as she found his lips with her own. The kiss was raw, passionate… she didn't need tenderness she just needed… needed to feel something. They both did. Alex let him push her into the dark alley, helped him by pulling up her skirt and wrapping her legs around his hips. She cried out as she felt his warmth within her. Weeping tears for the dead man… for herself… for Molly.

They walked back hand in hand. No one to see them, no one to judge. The sound of voices raised in song drifted through the night. Even though it had been years since she'd last been to a service, Alex still found herself mouthing the words to the familiar hymn.

"It's Christmas Day," she said as they paused outside the church.

"Same as any other day," Gene replied. "Still scum to catch… good men dying."

"Do you want to go in?"

"After what we've just done?"

She took his point.

He walked her to her door but Alex didn't ask him in. She knew he wouldn't accept the invitation. Christmas didn't mean anything to Gene. He was one of the few who chose to work during the holiday season and she doubted that he would even bother to go home. She stood at the window of her flat staring at the police station opposite and, sure enough, the light in Gene's office went on. And Alex knew that tonight, at the very least, he was safe.

She lingered at the window for longer than she should have, looking beyond Fenchurch East… over London and beyond. Alex allowed herself a small smile. Despite the tragedy, there was hope, somewhere in the world children were being born.

New life. Was that possible here?

Alex Drake placed her hand on her stomach and wondered.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex felt her stomach heave as the blood spurted.

"Tell me!" Gene Hunt roared, hitting the man again.

The man whimpered as he tried to crawl away from the relentless assault.

"Gene stop!"

She grabbed his arm before he could land another blow, holding on for dear life. The man was a rapist, a cop killer… she understood Gene's anger, felt it as he struggled against her but she couldn't let him continue his assault.

"Take him down to the cells," she ordered.

Chris and Ray looked at each other.

"Now!"

Gene nodded once and they quickly dragged the bleeding man from the interview room. Her stomach twisted again, forcing Alex to let go of Gene and wrap her arms around her middle in her efforts to control the pain.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," she hissed.

Either she was having the worst stomach cramps ever or…

It had taken three tests and a doctor's appointment to convince her that she really was pregnant. Alex had taken the news with a certain amount of resignation and had immediately scheduled an appointment at an abortion clinic. Then for some reason she had never attended. An imaginary baby, in an imaginary world… she had no reason to keep it… except…

"Gene?"

She clutched at his hand in desperation as he helped her sit down. Filling her lungs with air, she exhaled slowly as she willed the pain to go away. Gradually, it receded to a dull ache.

"You should see someone, get yourself sorted out," he said.

"It's nothing," she repeated quietly, letting her head rest against the concrete wall of the interview room.

"Women's problems?"

"You have no idea."

She turned away, not wanting to see his face when she told him.

"I'm pregnant, Gene."

Silence.

"Is it mine?"

"I don't know for certain."

Her reply was automatic. She didn't want anything from him. This was her problem, her mistake.

"Don't lie to me! You didn't just shag some random yuppie twat."

His concern was rapidly turning to anger and Alex's eyes were drawn to the bruising around his knuckles. A stark reminder that he had recently been beating crap out of a man.

"Why not?" she said "I'm a tart remember? I have them lining up outside my door."

"Bollocks. You haven't had a bloke up in your flat since you pinged city boy's braces. There were cobwebs down there."

"You weren't inside me long enough to find out!"

This time the flash of pain through her gut took her breath away. If she didn't get help soon Alex was certain that this argument would become academic.

"Come on."

He hauled her to her feet.

"What?"

"I'm taking you to the ruddy hospital."

"The hell you are! Let go of me."

"No!"

His arm was wound securely around her waist, a gesture she would have welcomed on any other occasion, but right at that moment she didn't want him touching her. Anger gave Alex the strength to wriggle free. When he reached for her again, she swung for him. Her fist made brutal contact with his jaw, forcing him to stagger backwards and she was out of the room before he had the chance to recover.

She went to the hospital by herself, only able to breathe easily once the various tests and scans had failed to find anything wrong. Even so, they insisted on keeping her overnight for observation.

Lying in her hospital bed, Alex found herself shedding a lonely tear. As a child she had wanted a fairytale but any fantasies she might have retained had been banished by this cruel reality. She had wanted her handsome price, her happy ending. She had never imagined finding herself pregnant by a man who was sometimes only one step away from the violent thugs he had sworn to keep off the streets. He had scared her today. Rarely had she seen him so out of control. Pete had been an idiot, but Gene was something else, something darker… he scared her and attracted her in equal measure. She felt out of control when she was with him.

It took her hours to fall into a restless doze, even then she was easily woken when she realised she had a visitor. The ward was in darkness and the curtains had been drawn about the bed. Even so, Alex could just about make out a bunch of flowers haphazardly stuffed in a vase on the cabinet beside the bed and the figure slumped in the nearby chair. No doubt he'd used his warrant card to gain access and there was probably no chance of shifting him without waking the rest of the patients.

"Gene," she called out quietly.

He stirred in his sleep but did not waken. She wondered if he was drunk. There was certainly the ever present stench of whiskey about his person but it didn't seem to be stronger than usual. Alex called out to him again, this time he opened his eyes. His hand reached out to grab hers and she realised that he was expecting the worst.

"It's okay," she reassured him, "I'm fine, the baby's fine."

"You're still pregnant?"

"Yes."

"I thought… I thought maybe you'd lost the baby"

"No."

"Would have been my fault if you had."

Gene dragged his fingers through his hair, leaving it mussed in a way that Alex longed to straighten.

"I…I always swore that I wasn't going to turn out like my old man., but I see him every time I look in the mirror. I can't be a father Alex, not to your kid or any other. You can have money, anything you want… but not that."

"But you're here… why?"

"I have no bloody idea."

He looked exhausted, haunted by a past that Alex could barely even begin to comprehend. Her own childhood had not been a happy one, and she could understand his reluctance but she didn't want to talk about this anymore… at least not tonight.

"Come here," she said, moving over and patting the space at her side.

"What?"

"You can't sleep in the chair all night."

There wasn't really room on the narrow bed for two people. It took some shifting around before they found a position that was even half way comfortable. Alex was almost asleep again when she felt Gene's hand slide around to rest on her stomach.

Not that she was showing much at the moment, but there was a subtle roundness that hadn't been there before. She allowed herself a small smile as he caressed the smooth skin. Turning her head, Alex let his lips brush gently against hers.

"I'm not changing any shitty nappies," he said.

"Okay."

"Or getting up at 3 AM to feed the little sod."

"Go to sleep."

There was silence for a moment then he shifted against her again.

"Alex?"

"Yes Gene?"

"Thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Just want to warn everyone that this part contains character death. **

"Bloody hell!"

Gene Hunt staggered backwards a few paces and flung his arm over his nose as he tried to block out the stench. This had to be the worst yet. He was almost on the point of throwing up when he reminded himself that Gene Hunt did not run away from anything, least of all a nappy full of baby shit. He had a theory. Women, Gene figured, were somehow immune to the excrement of their offspring but evolution still had a long way to go before it offered men the same protection. Steeling himself, he moved back to the changing table and quickly exchanged Samuel Alexander Hunt's soiled nappy for a clean one.

He should be used to this by now, Gene thought to himself as he expertly stuffed the baby back into the sleep suit. Little Sam was almost three months old and had been shitting, pissing and crying since day one. Scooping his son up, Gene moved through to the kitchen where a bottle of milk was warming on the stove. He shifted little Sam so the baby was securely held in one arm before picking up the bottle and, testing a drop of the liquid on his own skin. Too hot.

Sensing that Daddy wasn't being as prompt as usual with dinner, the baby began to whine a little. Gene knew from bitter experience that he had a matter of minutes before the whine turned to a wail. He didn't think he could cope with a crying baby… not tonight. Sometimes the little boy would get himself so worked up that he'd refuse to eat and Gene would spend anxious hours thinking that, after all his efforts, he was a complete failure as a father.

It was Christmas Eve. The flat was cluttered up with presents. People had been extraordinarily generous and Gene had found himself gruffly grateful for every stuffed toy and inappropriate outfit… even though no child of his was ever, ever going to wear a sailor suit.

Bouncing Sam in his arms, Gene carried him through to the living room and sat down in the rocking chair that Alex had insisted on buying. It was too big for the space but somehow it felt right that it was still there… just as it felt right to be living in her flat. Across the road from work, Gene had his friends around him and Mrs. Luigi willing to baby sit when he needed a night off. But he knew it couldn't last forever. A growing lad like Sam needed a garden where he could kick a football with his old man, a street outside where he could play with his mates.

He tested the milk again. The liquid had just cooled enough and little Sam suckled greedily when Gene offered him the bottle. It was a relief to watch his son eat. For the moment, peace and calm reigned supreme.

"Wish your Mum could see you now," he said in hushed tones.

Speaking to a three month old baby was a waste of time and just a bit girly but Gene did it anyway. He found himself wanting to talk about Alex, especially tonight.

"She was bloody gorgeous. Legs up to her armpits, fantastic arse… don't know what she saw in me to be honest."

His mind drifted back to that night. The chill of the air, the ice cold rain on his skin…

The little sounds she'd made as he kissed her. That blissful moment when he realised that Alex Drake was actually going to let him shag her brains out. And if his performance that night hadn't been all it should have been, he hoped he'd made up for it on other occasions.

"Always up for it as well. She was a dirty tart when she put her mind to it. Best sex I ever had…"

Gene allowed himself a small smile. It had been good because it had been with Alex. Yes, she'd done things to him that other men would have had to pay for but there was always that connection between them. He'd quickly learned that a bloke with a baby seemed to be an instant hit with the ladies but for all of the offers that had come his way, Gene still slept alone. He wasn't ready for that… didn't know if he ever would be.

"Bit of a mouthy cow, mind," he went on, "Your mum liked a good argument. Don't tell anyone, but I loved to get her all riled up... she'd practically shove her tits in my face."

The bottle was finished and Gene shifted Sam to his shoulder, letting the baby belch softly into the towel that lay there. God, if Bolly could see him now she'd probably wet herself laughing. His next words were spoken in a whisper, just in case there happened to be someone listening at the door.

"We were going to get married, then I could have been a proper dad but she wanted to wait until after you were born. Didn't want to look fat in her wedding dress… and you know what, I think I loved her... shit"

Gene felt something wet trickle down his cheek. He didn't cry… even when there was no one to see him. He remembered the blood… so much blood. It was 1982. Women weren't supposed to die in child birth. They weren't supposed to leave their little boys with an inadequate lumbering idiot of a father. Everything he did felt wrong. The baby was so small, so delicate and Gene was scared that he was going to do something to hurt him. The people who told him he was doing a good job didn't know the half of it. They didn't know how close he had come to shouting at the helpless infant… or worse. There had been one day when he'd walked out. He'd put on his coat, picked up his car keys and left the flat without a backwards glance… only to go running back when he'd heard Sam cry.

Clean and fed, little Sam was getting sleepy. He gave a huge yawn and then burped again. It was time for bed. Gene settled little Sam in his cot for the night and then poured himself a very small scotch before flopping back on the bed. He was desperate for a cigarette but he didn't like to smoke around Sam and he couldn't leave him to go outside. Slowly but surely Gene Hunt was being transformed into a non-smoking teetotaller. As much as he might publicly rage about the injustice of it all deep down he realised that it was probably a good thing. He was all Sam had and he'd rather not keel over before the little chap was out of nappies.

Finishing his drink, Gene closed his eyes, knowing he should sleep whilst he had the chance. It was hard though. His body was attuned to any little noise Sam made and he'd often get up when he didn't have to just to make sure his son was still breathing.

Rolling over he found himself staring out of the window. The night sky was clear, and despite the ever present glow of the London lights, it was still possible to see the brightest stars in the sky. It was going to be a cold night but he'd made sure that little Sam was wrapped up warm… and Gene could take some small comfort in the fact that he'd made it through another day.


	4. Chapter 4

Samuel Alexander Hunt straightened his tie, slicked back his hair and stepped onto the stage for what promised to be the proudest moment of his life.

Sergeant Hunt didn't need a prize for doing his job; it was enough that he had the liking and respect of his colleagues and superiors. Still, he couldn't help smiling as he received the bravery award from the nameless actor. He didn't give a speech. Speeches weren't his thing but he did manage to mumble a thank you. He could see his dad in the front row, clapping and cheering along with everyone else… even though he'd professed the opinion that the whole ceremony was a load of bollocks. Then, as he left the stage, Sam found his eyes drawn to a woman standing at the back of the room. From a distance it looked as if she were crying. Swept away by his friends and family, Sam gave little thought to who she might have been.

It was later in the evening when he saw her again. She was standing by the bar, a glass of champagne clutched in her hand. Her eyes followed his every move. Leaving his dad holding court with a group of former Met officers, Sam approached her. Signalling to the barman, he ordered a scotch before turning to face the woman. He was dressed very conservatively for the occasion; a plain dark suit, minimal makeup and her hair was roughly gathered at the nape of her neck. Looking down at her feet, Sam could see that she was wearing bright red heeled shoes. Somehow they seemed incongruous with the image she presented.

"Congratulations," she smiled at him, raising her glass.

"Thanks."

He recognised her now. Alex Drake, she had been big news six months ago. If he looked closely he could just make out the scar of a bullet wound hidden under her fringe. Sam wasn't sure what else to say. She was attractive enough, he supposed but he didn't want to sound as if he was hitting on her. One the other hand, it would be rude to enquire as to why she had been watching him so intently.

"So… do you come here often?" he asked, and then inwardly cringed.

Luckily, Alex Drake just laughed. Once again, her eyes were shining with tears.

"You are so like you father," she smiled.

"You know my Dad?"

"Yes… it was a long time ago though. He's probably forgotten me."

That didn't make sense either. She was obviously a posh bird and easily thirty years younger than his dad. Besides, dad always said that women were more trouble than they were worth and one failed marriage was enough. He liked to look but that seemed to be as far as his interest went. Sam wanted to believe that his dad's heart belonged to his mum and no other woman stood a chance.

"He's over there if you want to talk to him," Sam said pointing to his father.

Alex's face softened.

"No… I think it's too late for that," she replied. Setting her glass down on the bar, she held out her hand, "It was nice meeting you Sam, take care."

Sam shook her hand, surprised by how familiar it felt. When she reached up and wiped an imaginary spot of dirt from his cheek he didn't complain at all. Somewhat bemused, he walked back to rejoin his group only to realise that his dad was nowhere to be seen. There was a moment of panic before Sam realised that his dad had probably stepped outside. Fit and healthy, even in his seventies, the elder Hunt still liked to smoke the occasional cigar.

It was true that the function room was hot but Sam couldn't say why he followed. He wanted to talk to his dad about Alex Drake but it could have waited.

Standing outside on Park Lane seemed a little incongruous after the splendour of the ballroom inside the Dorchester. Sam wasn't a big fan of London. Although he'd been born in the city he'd been raised in Manchester and considered himself a Northern lad through and through. Looking about, Sam couldn't spot his dad amongst the gaggle of smokers. He swore to himself. This was no time for the old man to suddenly start having senior moments. Hyde Park was still open and Sam hurried across the road to see if his dad has had the sudden urge to commune with nature. Picking a direction at random he headed towards the Serpentine.

The July night was warm and there were plenty of people enjoying a late evening walk in the park. When Sam eventually found his dad, he didn't know whether to be happy or horrified. Even as an adult, he was still discomforted by the sight of the elder Hunt engaged in what could only be described as a public display of affection. . They weren't kissing, but their bodies betrayed such intimacy that Sam was forced to avert his eyes.

It was an intensely private moment. They were lost in each other and Sam quickly realised that explanations could wait.

On silent feet he walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

This wasn't a happy ending. Even as they walked hand in hand through Hyde Park, Alex knew that this was a bittersweet finale to a romance that should never have happened. Her last memories of 1982 had been horrific ones. All she had cared about was little Sam and seeing him safe in his father's arms. The doctors had rushed her away soon after. There had been a confusion of noise and pain… and then she had woken up.

Home.

Her joy at being reunited with Molly had been tainted by the knowledge that she had left behind a child that she would never know… until now.

Alex couldn't have said what had drawn her here this evening. She'd recognised the name of course, but even then she had still been under the impression that Sam Hunt couldn't possibly be real. Seeing him tonight had quickly disabused her of that notion. There had been no doubt in her mind that he was Gene Hunt's son. But the last person she had expected to see was the man himself. She'd tried to slip away unnoticed but had been stopped in her tracks by the words,

"Hello Bolls."

When he'd taken her hand and suggested that they go for a walk Alex had consented without a second thought. Her mind had frantically tried to calculate how old he'd be, but the overwhelming impression was of how good he looked. Even though his blonde hair was streaked with grey he still cut an impressive figure. His eyes however… the steely glare had been tempered by age and sorrow.

It was a beautiful night. They didn't talk at first. The whole experience seemed too powerful to put into words. When they did speak it was of old friends and colleagues, not of the situation they now found themselves in. She learned that Chris and Shaz had married but Ray was still a bachelor. Viv, unfortunately, was no longer with them. For some reason, Alex felt that Gene had been profoundly affected by his friend's death. It had been shortly after the funeral that he had decided to take Sam back to Manchester.

"I thought I was dreaming," Alex attempt to describe what had happened as they sat together on a quiet bench. Gene seemed to think for a moment as he lit a cigar.

"Maybe you were," he replied eventually.

"An out of body experience?"

"Many women have said that about shagging me, Bolly."

Alex giggled, burying her face into his shoulder. If she closed her eyes she could pretend that nothing had changed.

"I ran into Sam Tyler a few years back," he went on. "It was…"

"Surreal?"

"Weird… but he was making sense for probably the first time in his life and then… I heard he jumped off a building."

She nodded. Sam Tyler had died in both places and Alex had no idea what happened next. Was there another world for him to pass onto? Or had he used up his chances and there was nothing more than oblivion?

"Leslie Johns…" she reminded him.

"Sam disappeared."

"And then came back to you."

"Shit."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Gene asked.

"I was his psychologist."

"Poor buggar."

They fell into silence again but Alex knew what was going through Gene's mind. She wasn't surprised when he eventually asked,

"Didn't you want to do the same? Come back I mean?"

"I was dead in 1982, Gene. I couldn't ... and my daughter is here."

"And your son was there. You left him, Alex! A baby!"

There was anger in his voice and she was suddenly reminded what a hard, uncompromising bastard he could be. His accusation hurt.

"I didn't have a choice," she sobbed, hating herself for crying in front of him.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was?"

"God Gene, I brought Molly up by myself so don't come crying to me just because you had to change some nappies! I'm sorry I couldn't be there! I'm sorry I bled to death! And I'm sorry I came here tonight to see a son who doesn't know who I am and his ungrateful bastard of a father."

Their shouts were drawing attention and with effort, Alex tried to calm herself. This wasn't her 1980's dystopia where she'd had to scream to be heard. Alex stood, walking away from him, closer to the waters of the serpentine. Before long she felt him approach, his hands resting on her shoulders and gently turning her so she stepped into his embrace. He would never say the words but Alex knew this was Gene's way of telling her that he was sorry. He brushed a kiss on her forehead.

"He knows Alex," he said softly. "I told him all about you but I had no pictures… nothing. I took him back to Manchester where no one even knew your name. It was easier that way."

Alex pulled back, realising that this had been a horrible mistake. She had a life. Sam was a grown man, he didn't need her.

"It's late," she mumbled, "I should go. Molly was expecting me back hours ago."

Her nervous babble brought a frown to his face and she could feel him mentally distancing himself from her.

"Yeah…"

"It was lovely to see you again Gene, and you've done a great job with Sam… really."

"Go."

"Gene…"

"I'm an old man, Alex and you're still…"

"Still what?"

"Beautiful."

Alex blushed at his honest compliment. With her tear stained face and dishevelled hair, she didn't feel beautiful.

"We never had chance, did we?"

Gene shook his head.

"I'd need a bucket of Viagra before I could give you a good seeing to."

But Alex couldn't bring herself to smile. The age difference didn't matter but Sam did. They had to protect their son from this madness.

"Just go," he was almost pleading with her now.

Taking a step towards him, Alex placed a hand on his cheek before kissing him softly.

"Goodbye Gene."

No… this wasn't a happy ending but as Alex made her way home to Molly, she tried to convince herself that it was a new beginning.

THE END


End file.
